A Long Way From Orion
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: They're still flying. The past is never far and the bright future is dimmed by a fadding light but they're still flying. Part of the Steal the Sky verse, Follows The Things They Carried.
1. Give and Take

**Notes: **The stories here on in may not be in chronological order (and several take place over the course of a long period of time with other stories technically happening in that time frame) but just assume that the jobs/time frame runs parrallel to the first season of Leverage starting at The Homecomming Job and running until just before the Two Horse Job (as seen on the DVDs rather than original airing). At the start of each story I'll let you know when it falls on that timeline. Also note that while they can techincally be read alone fics will occasionally refference the events of other stories.  
>And because I can no longer write gen apparently I should warn that these stories have DeanEliot scattered throughout.

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><p><strong>Give and Take<br>**_Three times Dean was caught taking care of Eliot and the (many) time(s) no one realized Eliot was taking care of Dean._

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><p>All in all their first official job as a team had gone pretty smoothly. Sure, someone had tried to kill their client, the crew had threatened to disband at one point, and Parker realized she could argue with orders without getting punished which had proved interesting.<p>

But generally speaking the job had gone without a hitch.

Nate followed the others out of the conference room as the debriefing ended. Sam already had his orders to take them out of orbit and head toward their next stop. Sophie was probably heading to her rooms. Hardison looked about to pass out from exhaustion so he was probably heading back to the crew quarters, Parker a few steps behind him. She'd keep his nightmares away.

Eliot was heading for the kitchen.

Nate gave another internal sigh.

They had planned on stocking up on fresh food for Eliot while on the planet, they'd been running low for a few days and an outlying planet seemed the perfect place to get fresh supplies.

Twelve hours into the job Eliot had become violently ill. For anyone else he would have been out of the game for much longer than a few hours when he couldn't even force himself to stand. As it was they were just lucky they hadn't needed him until he was mostly recovered.

It wasn't long after that they realized something in the soil leeched into the food. It wasn't enough to make the locals sick but Eliot's altered physiology meant he couldn't eat it.

What food they had left from other planets was on Leverage, and even that would barely make it through a couple more meals.

Nate watched, internally wincing, as Eliot started to make dinner for the crew.

It had been at least four days since Eliot had had more than the nutrition replacement pills he constantly carried and water.

They would be stopping to get supplies at a market colony a day's ride out from where they were, but it wasn't likely they'd be able to get what they'd need and any fresh food was likely to come from the planet they'd been on. The closest planet was another day and a half away at least.

You'd never know looking at Eliot how hungry he probably was. It had to be torture to prepare food.

He should make someone else take up the job for the ne-

"Hey, Spencer." Dean said, the tone of voice with him using Eliot's clan name making the taunt clear. After finding out that calling someone by their given name was a sign of respect in Project Olympus and that calling one of The Named by their clan name was a mild insult Dean calling Eliot Spencer was a sure sign teasing and mild rough housing would follow. "I got something for you on world."

Nate tracked Dean's voice to where he was lingering on the edge of Eliot's domain, holding up an apron that read "kiss the cook".

Eliot shot Dean a glare and switched his hold on the knife in his hand.

Dean's smile just widened as he shot a taunt back, entering the kitchen without hesitation.

Banter followed, with accusations of "jerk" and "witch" and "asshole" being thrown between the two with the occasional blow as Dean tried to get Eliot to wear the apron.

Nate almost missed their body language telling a different story, or that Dean slid deftly next to Eliot to help without comment.

He smiled then, and retreated back into the conference room.

It may have looked like Dean was harassing Eliot but Nate knew better. There was nothing they could do for Eliot, expect distract him.

And Dean seemed to be pretty good at that.

**oOo**

It had been a long time since Sophie had put on a wedding. Six years ago, maybe seven, she'd helped a fellow companion turned grifter marry some upper-crust purple-belly and made herself a healthy little profit even if it had taken her days to get the red hair out of that dress.

She'd forgotten how much fun it could be.

Admittedly things were a little different this time around and there was the whole people trying to kill her and the others which was, as she could tell Nate was slowly discovering, actually pretty normal.

The Butcher was new, though she might have jumped ship with the rest of them if he'd still been working for Nishka.

But the job was over, the client got her restaurant back, The Butcher was dead, and Leverage was off flying toward their next job.

She should have seen this coming though.

No, she had, in a way at least. She'd seen the look on Eliot's face at the mention of the Butcher, seen the flash of memory and the hint of fear. But he'd covered it, and quickly, and there had been things to do and Sophie was distracted by her own part.

But here it was, early (very early) in the morning cycle. She was only up because of a call with a contact on a world with odd time schedules and not being able to get back to sleep after.

She'd started to wander the ship and ended up on the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay.

And there they were.

On the floor far below her Eliot and Dean were fighting. She hesitated to say sparring because, despite the distance, she could tell they'd been at it for some time and that neither was pulling any punches. Dean had a bloody nose and Eliot was favoring his right leg. It would be interesting to see them explain themselves to Nate in the morning, though at least there were a few days before they had another job.

She stood still, taking a calming breath, quieting her mind. No reason to alert Eliot to her presence.

She was curious.

Dean and Eliot moved toward each other again, almost looking like they were dancing from this distance, dodging and ducking, swinging and faking blows. Eliot was more clumsy than she was used to, his attacks more desperate and unbalanced.

"You can't get me like that." Dean taunted. "Come on. Stop messing around and hit me."

Eliot's growl in response reverberated around the cargo bay as he moved forward lashing out again.

And crashing to the floor, barely rolling to absorb a little impact.

Dean was next to him a second later, helping him lay comfortably and sitting back, catching his own breath, wiping at the blood from his nose.

A sound, some type of melody of music she'd never heard before, drifted up from where Dean was humming it, staring into space, looking relaxed.

Or like he was trying to make himself be relaxed.

As she turned, retreating into the common area to leave them alone to whatever they needed to do, she heard Dean ask. "You need a round four?"

**oOo**

Hardison had known reivers existed. There was no way to avoid reports of them being filtered through the cortex.

Hell every few months a handful of LTOs who were no longer considered useful were sent on suicide missions into reiver occupied space to kill as many as they could before being overrun.

Like that was going to resolve the problem.

Yes. Hardison knew reivers existed.

He just never believed he'd see their work outside of his own nightmares.

But here they were, standing at the edge of the settlement where they'd met their client, where they'd hoped to return to bail him out of jail and tell him his family now had a house and future.

They had no future.

No one in the settlement did.

The streets were empty, signs of a struggle all over, blood steins painting the town red, but no bodies.

Dean was the first to do *something* besides just stare in horror. He'd been coming with them to get a new part for their ship, Sophie staying behind with Sam in his place.

"Sam." Dean said, calling over their coms. "Check the cortext, see if anyone's coming our way. The town was hit by reivers, but they look to have cleared out a while ago. Make sure we aren't gonna get a surprise." Then he turned his attention to the rest of them. "Hardison get back on the shuttle and hook up, we need data on the population of the town, lists of holdings, and anyplace big enough for large gatherings. Nate, go with him."

Hardison shot a glance to Nate who seemed ready to argue but didn't. Weird.

"Parker find the mechanics shop. I showed you the part we need. Get it and bring it back here. After you can go find anything of value you want but be careful. Avoid places you can be trapped. Eliot he-"

Dean's voice cut off and Hardison turned to look. Their hitter had wandered a few steps further into the settlement, not hearing them.

Slowly Eliot sank to his knees, looking skyward, mouth open in a silent scream before he crumpled forward, holding his head.

Hardison knew reivers existed. He knew they were evil.

He also knew what Eliot had been through in his life, knew that Eliot was a reader, that he sometimes caught flashes of memory of the past, traces of things.

Hardison could tell his powers were going into overload. He could only imagine what Eliot was seeing, hearing, feeling…

Could only imagine what the reivers did that could make someone like Eliot look like his sanity was breaking under the weight of it all.

"Shit." Dean said, half running to the downed hitter. "We have to get him out of here." He grabbed Eliot's hands pulling them away from where he'd been gripping his head. "Eliot, look at me. Gorramit, look at me. It's not…" He looked up at them, desperation in his eyes. "Help me get him out of here. He's watching what they did." Shocked, stunned silence. "Do you want him to fucking become one of them?"

The shock of it all broke, finally, Nate moving to help Dean all but drag Eliot to his feet, half carrying him back to the shuttle as they all hurried after.

Eliot was still non-responsive by the time they let him collapse onto the floor of the shuttle and Nate moved to fly them out of there.

Hardison watch Dean shift Eliot so he was leaning against the wall, half sitting up. The tips of Eliot's fingers were stained red. He'd dug his nails into his scalp deep enough to draw blood.

"Eliot are you with us?" Dean asked, getting no response. "_Eliot, you hear me?" _He asked again in slightly broken and badly accented Greek. His hand reached across the space between them, pushing Eliot's hair out of his face. There was something absurdly intimate about that gesture. "_Come back. You are looking for something. You'll find it here."_

Eliot's head slowly moved, his eyes turning upward, finding Dean's. His skin was pale, eyes haunted, body starting to tremble as if he was going into shock.

Hardison prayed he'd never actually meet a reiver face to face.

"Get a blanket." Dean ordered, strangely calm, still not breaking eye-contact with Eliot. "_Right. I am right here. This is real. You saw just hallucinations."_

"_No."_ Eliot's response was cold. "_Not just hallucinations."_

Hardison hand Dean the blanket, suddenly reluctant to touch Eliot, afraid of breaking the tether to sanity Dean seemed to have manage to forge for him.

"_Not."_ Dean admitted, taking the blanket and slowly wrapping it around Eliot's shoulders. "_But not happening now. Are you here now?"_

Eliot nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around himself, shifting position. Hardison watched, still feeling like he was in shock, not sure if *he* had started to hallucinate when Eliot reached out a hand and pulled Dean closer until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"_You want I thought the crew not know." _Dean said, making a face like he was aware of the word salad his Greek was descending into, and Hardison's mind told him he was probably trying to make up for his limited understanding by using Chinese grammar instead of English, making the whole thing worse.

Cause that was easier to process than what he'd actually said.

"Let them watch." Eliot half growled, wincing, possibly at the bad attempts at Greek, leaning his head against Dean's shoulder. "It might make up for your chick flick moment there boy."

"Witch" Dean shot back his tone only sounding half insulting.

Hardison retreated to sit next to Nate, the whole situation just a little too much.

He thought he'd have nightmares about reivers that night. Especially knowing that Sam and Dean went back down planet side on a "hunt".

But in the end he only dreamt about insult exchanges as Dean and Eliot went into battle, sawed off shotgun blazing, and Eliot's long knife glinting sunlight as they danced a bloody whirlwind.

**oOo**

It had been a few months but Eliot still kept odd hours. Ever since he went off his medication he needed to sleep a little more but not all that much.

It was useful. He could run and train and spar and cook and spend time with Dean and still get the rest he needed.

Or, at times like this, he could wait.

Wait, perched on a piece of machinery in the engine room, for the Impala to dock back with Leverage.

For Dean to come wandering through here.

Dean shared The Impala with Sam. Eliot shared his room with his clan.

The engine room was where they went for it to be just them. Even Parker didn't bother them in here.

He waited, listening to the hum of machinery, feeling the last bits of tension drain away, soaking in the comfort of this familiar space, or the warmth in the air here.

He had felt his sanity slipping today, faster than…

And somewhere out there Dean was hunting down the survivors and killing them. Putting them out of their misery.

Sometimes the verse just really sucked.

He pulled his legs up and waited.

He needed to be here when Dean got back.

Dean tried to be subtle about it, and mostly failed, but Dean looked after him. Eliot wasn't particularly pleased with someone thinking he needed looking after but it was… nice?

And it gave him the rare opportunity to return the favor.

Not that Dean needed looking after particularly either. And Dean wasn't exactly a walking science experiment turned time bomb.

But there was one thing Eliot found Dean needed.

One thing Eliot knew he couldn't provide forever. Hell, Eliot wasn't sure how much longer he could provide it with his own body giving out a little more every day.

He knew he was running out of time. He could feel it in his bones and the beat of his heart and the burn of his muscles. He had another year, he thought, maybe two. Probably not.

But a year was a long time. He would use it as best he could.

Take this last ride through the black, make the best of it, breathe free air, claim his body and mind and do with it as he wanted to.

And maybe convince those he was coming to love that when he left it wasn't by his choice but still for the best.

Dean walked in, looking worn down, looking exhausted, the sensation of death and suffering clinging to him like a stench.

But then he looked up, and saw Eliot, and smiled. A light fresh in those green eyes and a jump of sensation chased across Eliot's mind.

Eliot was there. Eliot was still there. Eliot was waiting for him to come back.

Eliot smiled back, feeling the warmth settle in Dean's mind chasing away the ever present threat of fear, the sensation that he'll blink and everything will disappear and be ripped away.

Eliot wasn't sure how this would play out in the end, how this odd _thing_ between a hunter who's lost everything he's ever cared about at least once and a failed experiment living on borrowed time would turn out when they ran out of days.

But he thought, if he could keep being *here* for as long as he could, and if this crew could hold itself together after he bowed out, then maybe Dean would find what he'd been looking for.

Eliot thought he might already have.


	2. Magic Words

**Notes:** This was written for the free square on my H/c bingo card using the prompt "Loss of childhood". Shameless references to my childhood continue to be shameless throughout this.

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><p><strong>Magic Words<strong>

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><p>It started after their first job.<p>

The job had gone well and other than the problems with food for Eliot and someone trying to kill their client they'd mostly come out the other side without much hassle.

No one would be entirely sure where the book had come from later. It was a adaption of an Earth that Was classic so there were some guesses that it was Sophie's and she'd picked up on world.

Though it was about a school for Wizards and a fight for good and evil and looked like it could have been a book for children so that seemed to cancel out that possibility.

Really probably the reason no one knew where it came from was that no one would own up to being the one to bring it on board.

Though, if Nate thought about what brought it to general attention, that might be less of an issue.

What was common knowledge was the day after their first job, when they were on their way to the market station, it had been left sitting on a table in the common area.

After the meal Nate had returned to the conference room to work on their next job, the door open out of habit. He could hear everyone go their separate ways, Parker collecting the dishes since it was her turn.

There was a stretch of quiet and Nate was just starting to tune the rest of the ship out as he worked when he heard a voice from the lounge area.

"That word's motorcycle." Parker said.

There was a crash, like someone had been startled bad enough to jump and knock something over (Not unusual with Parker). "Damit Parker!" Eliot half shouted, apparently the one startled.

"You didn't know I was behind you?" She asked, sounding confused.

Eliot growled and huffed and got up. "I was reading. Focusing."

"I saw that. You read really slow." Eliot muttered something angrily. "It's okay. I was trying to help." A beat, awkward quiet almost, not quiet right. "The Older Parkers used to read to us. It was fun." A short silence and then she was speaking, talking about flying motorcycles and giants.

Reading to Eliot.

Nate was only a little surprised when the door out to the catwalk slammed.

"But, readings magical." Parker stated to the empty air.

**oOo**

Nate didn't think about the incident again for nearly a week. Life onboard Leverage was chaotic enough to keep him busy without borrowing additional issues to mull over.

Of course the issue he was avoiding turned out to be a possible problem for a job.

He took a moment to just identify how much of a given he'd thought it to be. Everyone in the core worlds could read and everything he'd seen and heard pointed to the three former agents to be absolute geniuses.

Even after hearing Eliot say it. Even after what he'd overheard it took until halfway through their second job before Nate registered that the fact that Eliot's ability to read at all was questionable could prove a problem.

They were already in the Mosconi's mansion and they were breaking up to do their jobs after an abbreviated briefing in the kitchen. Before Hardison left Eliot pulled him over to the side, pulling out his com and Hardison quickly doing the same.

Nate couldn't hear what they said but after a few whispered words Eliot passed Hardison the piece of paper he'd been given as the chef. Requests and food restrictions to follow when preparing the meal.

Hardison took it and Nate was surprised that there wasn't a hint of teasing in his eyes as he started to read it to Eliot.

It had been floating around his mind, bits of knowledge, but that moment solidified it.

Eliot had been taken from his family before he was old enough to be taught to read. He'd spent the normal years a child would learn as a member of Areas project and trying to recover his sanity in it's aftermath. He'd been thrown into a clan of Low Tech classes doing everything they could just to get through from one day to the next. From what Nate knew now he could guess Eliot had seen more beatings than books in those years.

He was a genius, all the children taken by Project Olympus had been gifted, but that gift could only account for so much.

Then it had been missions and more fighting and more beatings. Reading always that skill he didn't need to survive since even the cheapest Com. Units had text reading programs and he could bluff his way through the other situations so it would always be put off just that much longer. Now he was thirty-five and it had taken him a half hour to work through the first few pages of a children's book.

Nate turned to go, rearranging pieces in his head, making notes to himself to make sure that someone was always close enough that Eliot could get them over to help him, but it was only a temporary fix.

If Eliot was going to be a viable piece in a con he'd need to be able to do more than bluff his way through situations like this.

**oOo**

Those on board Leverage kept odd schedules. This was a fact of life Nate had accepted and gotten used to.

This fact was the reason he barely even took note of Hardison wandering into the lounge area at two in the morning when Nate knew it wasn't his turn for night watch of the bridge (he knew this because Nate had gotten off said duty ten minutes ago and it was now Dean keeping an eye on things).

He did take just the briefest note that Hardison sat down on a couch and picked up the same book that had been sitting there for over a week now and started to read it.

Then Nate realized he was on the last of the bottle he'd been working his way through and the next one was in his room.

By the time he'd debated about getting it, stubbornly gone down, gotten the bottle, and returned to the conference room to drink (and brood) his plan was slightly side tracked when he noticed in twenty minutes Hardison had gotten halfway through the book and was putting it down with a disappointed expression.

Later Nate would be hard pressed to say which realization had actually surprised him. That Hardison could read that fast or that, apparently, despite Nate thinking of Hardison as something as a kid he was too old for wizards and magic.

He was halfway through speculating that Hardison had only been taught to speed read, absorb information from massive amounts of text, had never been taught or even allowed to just enjoy… it seemed like a project Olympus kind of thing.

He got that far before he'd had enough Bourbon that, just for a little while, he could forget about the alliance and just how good it was at stealing childhoods away.

**oOo**

It was two days later that the pieces came together and really Nate probably should have seen it coming.

He heard the laughter from down the hall as he exited the Captains quarters.

Laughter wasn't as unusual on the ship as he'd have thought once, but he wasn't used to much more than silence coming from the crew's quarters.

He let curiosity take him down the hall, pausing outside the near opaque windows around the door, seeing the blurry outlines of Parker and Eliot sitting on a bunk bed while Hardison stood with something in his hands.

"Ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. 'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got…"

Hardison was reading the book out loud to the other two, energy and enthusiasm in his tone.

Suddenly the narration stopped and the door was opening. Parker was there then, grabbing him by the hand, pulling him inside and not being satisfied until Nate was seated nearby.

Hardison started reading again, pausing every so often so Parker or Eliot could explain to Nate what he'd missed.

Nate wasn't particularly interested in the story of a ten year old and magic letters and evil Uncles and cousins.

But there was something in the air, in the space between them and the movement of Hardison's hands and the way Parker's face lit up or Eliot closed his eyes while listening.

The way they laughed every so often, care free. Free.

Nate didn't know a lot about what their lives had been like before but he knew in his bones this would never have happened.

Hardison finished the chapter and Parker announced brightly. "Our turn!"

Hardison had handed the book over to her and taken a seat on one of the chairs near Nate while Parker held the book between her and Eliot.

Parker picked up the story, Eliot looking on over her shoulder as she read the first line then paused, looking toward him.

Slowly, stumbling slightly, Eliot spoke Dudley's dialogue. "Where's the ca- cannn cannon?"

"He said stupidly." Parker stated. There was a pause when Eliot gave her a glare and Hardison was giving Parker a look. "It's the next line! Look!" She pointed to the text. Eliot relaxed and Parker continued to read the narration but as they continued she'd stop for Eliot to read the dialogue of any male character.

They got through the next chapter before they seemed to come to the mutual decision that it was enough reading for one night. The book was closed and put on an otherwise empty shelf and they all disbanded.

Parker was the last to slip out of the room, the moment past, everyone moving on, something in the air shifting like they'd been under one of the book's spells.

But before Parker slipped away with the rest of them she paused, giving him one of her looks that was as crazy as it was sane and said. "Didn't you know? Reading's magical."

Then she was gone.

**oOo**

It wasn't immediate after that, nothing changed overnight onboard Leverage, but things slowly, silently something shifted as sure as the turn of the world.

No one would own up to bringing Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone onto Leverage so it was only fitting that when Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets appeared on the same table after their next job no one would say who it was who brought it on board.

By the time they reached the location of their fifth job the reading had moved up to the lounge area.

By the sixth it had become the only thing other than meals to actually happen at a regular time, every night they were flying right before most of the crew went to bed, that was attended by everyone not on watch on the bridge.

Fittingly for a ship full of thieves new books still mysteriously appeared on the table in the lounge after a job, but it was not unusual for more than one book to show up.

Halfway through The Goblet of Fire Parker called out "My turn." at the end of a chapter, reading the entire thing. The next night Eliot picked up the book and read the next chapter alone.

When he finished his chapter and passed the book to Sophie if anyone noticed Eliot's hands shook a little, or that Parker and Hardison were grinning like proud siblings, or that Dean was practically beaming at Eliot when the Hitter sat back down next to him…

Or if maybe Nate drank less that night.

No one mentioned it, or probably would say it willingly, but they all shared a feeling summed up by the words of a crazy former agent.

Reading was magic.


	3. End of the Race

**Notes: **Done for the Medications square on my hc bingo card. Mild tissue warning.

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><p><strong>The End of the Race<strong>

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><p>The end of the race was getting closer. Nate knew it. He watched day by day as each mile marker was passed.<p>

A year, Eliot had told him during the Leverage's maiden voyage. That's how much time Eliot was sure he had.

It was a long time. In just a fourth of that the 'verse had changed for the agents.

But it was also so very short. That finish line looming close on the horizon.

They stood in the med ward in the middle of the night, because even if Hardison had some idea Eliot didn't want anyone but Nate to know exactly how bad and how soon things were going to get.

Eliot was coy about it with the others but never with Nate. He had a year left still and when he went it would be quick.

Except Nate knew that was only half true. Eliot had lived a life of hardships and beatings where slowing down for a moment would get him killed. If Eliot wasn't already starting to get sick Nate knew he would soon. He wouldn't show it, he was too focused on Hardison and Parker and Dean and taking care of them.

Like a long distance runner with the end in sight and the knowledge that he can sprint the rest of the way and just make it to the finish line without slowing down.

Eliot was not a little boy. Not a child who could be so easily…

Nate told himself that he'd be ready when it happened. That it's a small mercy that Eliot would hold himself together and die so quickly when he couldn't anymore. That the team would be able to carry through after their hitter was gone.

At peace. Nate reminded himself. There was a difference between Eliot and…

Eliot was ready to die. He hadn't lived a long life but Nate knew Eliot got his final wish. He got to live free.

And Nate knew the thing Eliot hadn't breathed a word of to anyone, had tried to hide, that only Nate and Sophie had really figured out.

Like that long distance runner at the end of the race Eliot was tired. He was willing to give everything he had for that last stretch but a part of him was looking toward that finish line, counting the days until he could put aside meds and episodes and his breaking-down body and not have to run or crawl or be carried.

When he could just rest.

Eliot Spencer was ready to die.

Maybe one day that knowledge would comfort him.

"I'll need a dozen of these," Eliot said, handing Nate a small box that rattled with the few remaining doses. "Fourteen of the anti-psychotics. Twenty-eight Neruo-supressors." Nate took the other boxes and jotted down the instructions. There'd been a surge of new medications into the black market over the past few weeks and Nate had managed to get a contact who could acquire the medications Eliot would need if they were going to do a job on a core planet.

And just in time for a call from Paul.

"Four doses of any class five pain med." Eliot added a little too casual about how he wasn't looking at Nate.

Most days Nate couldn't find a lot of comfort outside of a bottle when it came to Eliot's situation.

"Double the order if you can." Eliot added, rearranging things in a shelf, occupying his hands. "But don't get a third. No point wasting the crew's money."

He needed a drink.

"We might do more than two jobs on core worlds."

Eliot gave him a look. "Nate. It takes two days for that stuff to start working right. Two weeks for it to get outa my system entirely." He turned away. "Plus it aint good for me to jump on and off like that."

He hesitated before saying. "I talked to my contact. The stuff we're going after isn't in highest demand. We might be able to get a six month supply. Longer, maybe. This is only half the cocktail you were on and one of the best thieves in the verse is on our crew. We can keep you on your meds as long as you need them."

Eliot tensed, hands going flat against the shelf. He was quiet. The kind of quiet Nate was more used to from Hardison in the days when their hacker had been new aboard Leverage and was trying to override a lifetime of programing.

Nate did what he'd learned to do then. Stay quiet.

"I…" Eliot let out a breath. "Morning after that first job I wandered out onto the catwalks. Parker was doing her crazy on 'em but… I could feel the rush of air. She wasn't laughing but I could feel it in my gut. I just walked around Leverage for an hour. The hum of engines and burn of fire. The slip of silk as Sophie chose her dress an' ran her fingers along the trim. The deep silence in The Impala, traces of a lifetime…"

Nate wanted to ask. He wasn't sure what all that meant.

"For years my gift was this… if they got my meds wrong, if I started to reject them, if I was trying to do a Read and got interrupted I'd Drop." Nate was quiet. He'd tried to read up on Readers but there was little more than rumor or gossip. Considering what he'd seen happen to Readers he reasoned the ones sane enough to describe their lives did their best to never be recognized for what they were. "Droppings like… you know the dreams where you're falling? The ground just drops out and you can't move to stop yourself and you're not even really sure why you're falling or if it's real an' you wake up shaking with the world comin' at you and you have that half moment where you wonder if you're gonna fall again. When a Reader Drops it's like that, only more 'n likely you do fall again. And again."

He watched Eliot, careful to keep his emotions neutral. If Eliot felt something from him he interpreted as pity he'd clam up. Eliot explained himself, his life, for the same reason he would explain the obstacles of a job.

Eliot was quiet for a moment, lost in thought or memory, but shaking it off, his hands clenching the counter's edge. "But that day, when the meds wore off and… It felt… In training sometimes we'd wear blindfolds, train by ear, by feel. After awhile you almost forget what it's like to see. Somewhere between the meds and Dropping and years of surviving a curse I'd forgotten what it's like. They call it a sixth sense for a reason Nate." His hands unclenched, tension draining out of his body. "I know I'm causin' problems bouncing on and off my meds. I know it's not good for me but I've lived most of my life with a gift tied up in knots." He turned to look Nate in the eyes finally. "Something in my head or here" He tapped his knuckles against his heart. "Wasn't really free until the meds wore off and for the team I'll bind that part of me again, but I refuse to die like that."

Eliot held his eyes, refusing to verbally ask permission even though Nate could see that something in him needed to be told that he was allowed that bit of selfishness.

Nearly five months ago Nate had heard Eliot tell Sophie his dying wish was to be free even for just a little while. Nate would make sure Eliot died as free as anyone could be in the verse.

"Alright, Eliot," Nate stated.

Nate didn't do touch and Eliot was pretty hands off but as Nate moved to walk past Eliot he put a hand on the Hitters shoulder.

"It's alright." He told Eliot trying to let the Reader feel his acknowledgement of what was coming. "It's alright."

Eliot's eternally straight shoulders sagged just a little, relief. He'd understood Nate's permission, absolution.

Nate let his hand drop and started for the door, wondering if maybe he'd made a mistake. He'd given Eliot permission to die.

"Hey Nate." Eliot said behind him and Nate looked back to catch an echo of Eliot's old grins. "I've still got a little while left and dying free don't mean I'll go without a fight."

Nate's grin mirrored Eliot's. "I've never known you to do anything without one."

He slipped out of the bridge and wandered up toward his room, a bottle calling his name.

And somewhere between then and the hangover the next morning he'd poke at and prod the conversation and the faint hint of something in Eliot's eyes and he'd wonder for a brief moment if there wasn't, maybe, a part of Eliot that wished his body could carry him through another lap.


	4. If You Wanna Be

**Notes: **For the "Love Spell/Love Potion gone awry" square on my H/c bingo card. Also contains shameless shout outs to a group from my childhood and Dean/Eliot because I am no longer capable of writing gen apparently.

**warning: refferenced dub con and non con**

* * *

><p><strong>If You Wanna Be<strong>

* * *

><p>There was very little in the verse that Eliot hated worse than that moment right after he woke up when he realized he had no idea where he was and no memory of how he got there.<p>

He stayed still, a lifetime in and out of hell had long since taught him to never give away consciousness before processing his surroundings. He was almost naked, just his boxers still on. The hard medical bed underneath him was warm. He'd been laying there long enough for his body heat to be absorbed. There was pressure on his wrists and ankles.

Panic surged through him when he realized he'd been restrained to a medical bed. Had he been caught? Were the others safe? Were they taking him back to Tartarus? Or Cupids Quiver? Or the Labs? His last Handler had always told him if he outlived his usefulness they'd take him back to the labs and take him apart.

Beeping, the machines monitoring his heart registering his spike of panic, and a hand touched his shoulder.

His eyes opened and he jerked upward, forcing his muscles to the edge of their limits and past to the ones created by the Areas' meddling. The restraints strained and the one on his right arm gave way allowing him to get in a solid punch, knocking the green-eyed scientist back.

It bought him a few seconds, long enough to fumble for his other restraint. His hands were shaking. His head was roaring, pain like fists pounding against the inside of his skull like Athena from the skull of Zeus letting him know he'd been drugged.

His hands were shaking too badly, adrenalin, fear, aftereffects of the drugs. He couldn't get his other hand free.

"Eliot!" A voice called. He recognized it but it wasn't the kind of recognition he usually had. It didn't come from the innate, instinctive, terror that seized him whenever he heard the voices of the scientists and doctors who'd worked on him as a child. "ge-men, calm down." Ge-men, 'dude', someone called him that.

He took a deep breath, a hand settled on his shoulder, another appeared in his line of vision to free his other hand from it's restraints. "Please tell me you're just freaking out 'cause Nate had the bright idea to restrain ya and not cause it hasn't worn off yet."

Dean. His mind registered. It was Dean's voice. Dean's hand. Dean's eyes.

Shit. He'd just punched Dean.

"What the hell?" He asked, cause really he was way too far behind to ask anything more insightful. He turned once his other hand was free, catching sight of Dean.

He was gently prodding his nose, probably trying to figure out whether or not Eliot had broken it. "Do you remember what happened last night?" Dean asked. When Eliot just kept staring at him he gave a dry smile. "Take that as a no. You know what day it is?"

_Noise. Light. Colors. It wasn't a core world but the planet had some decent sized cities. Enough to get lost in but he'd been taking his medications again since they'd be in and out of cities like this for the duration of the job. The dose wouldn't wear off for a while yet so he could enjoy the sensation of life without losing himself to it._

Eliot ran his hands through his hair. "Last I remember it was the 23rd of November. We'd just handed over the payout to the client and agreed to never speak of the job again."

"You remember what we did after?" Dean asked, settling into a chair nearby, and Eliot couldn't help but wonder if the wince was for more than just his nose.

"_Do you think they notice if I stole those?" Parker asked, her voice drifting back to him from where she was talking to Hardison, walking slightly ahead._

"_They're stilts, Parker." Eliot growled before Hardison could answer. "An' he's usin' them. I think he'd notice." _

_Parker started pouting and Eliot looked away because he was pretty sure Sophie was giving her lessons. The longer they all spent aboard Leverage the harder it was getting for Eliot to deny Parker anything when she gave him that look. Yes, he was her clan brother but, with Nate bouncing between drunk and obsessive and Sober and brooding more and more, Eliot was the closest to a stable force in Hardison and Parker's lives. After the lives they'd led a sudden void of discipline and direction would just end badly. _

_Looking away meant he'd be able to completely ignore Parker's pout _and_ Dean's knowing smirk. That boy wasn't self-aware enough to be allowed that smirk._

_He caught sight of the draft list in the window of the bar they were passing, surprised to see right at the top one of the brews from the short list his body could actually metabolize the way it was supposed to._

"We went to a bar?" He asked. "Club? Something like that. You, me, Parker, Hardison." His gaze fell to the floor as he considered. "Did they lie 'bout the beer? Switch it up for some reason." It was a possibility. One reason, the main reason, he had to be especially careful with what he drank was if his body couldn't metabolize the alcohol correctly he risked dying from alcohol poisoning from a single beer. There were a few times in his life when he'd gotten falling down drunk from something that wouldn't have made a little kid tipsy for that reason. It would explain why he couldn't remember much more.

"No. Beer was fine… at least it was." He sighed. "I tell ya Eli, Hardison's probably the only guy I've ever met who'd smarter than Sam but damn the kids dumb some times. I know you three traded out common sense survival skills 101 for Intro to Theft and Espionage and all but…"

Dean was cracking jokes and poking fun at their training. Whatever happened had to have been worse than a bad reaction to beer.

"Hey!" Eliot snapped, a little more sharply than he meant to. But god his head hurt. "Just… tell me what happened."

Dean sighed, wiping at his eyes in thought (or possibly out of exhaustion. He looked like he might have been up all night.) only to curse when he brushed his nose. Shaking it off he answered. "It started when we sent Hardison to the bar to get our second round."

Dean lined up his shot and waited for the balls to flicker like they had been on and off over the course of the game. It had already cost Eliot one shot, his perfect aim not taking into account the balls not being there when he made his move, and Dean didn't intend to make the same mistake. The basic game had turned into something of a competition. Dean's life-experience gained expertise verses Eliots…

Occasionally infuriating Eliotness.

He made his shot sinking another ball and straightening to look around. Parker was back to their table nearby, grinning like she'd managed to find a couple of pockets to pick. Eliot was leaning against the booth, waiting for his turn, his eyes distant and unfocused. He was probably letting himself slip as far as he could while medicated. In a place like this, the pounding music and cram of life and movement and heat from the other patrons probably all melded together like Eliot had told him it sometimes did. Judging from his expression it was probably one of the rare times when the sensation it created felt good.

Dean delayed telling Eliot it was his turn to look for Hardison. The kid was taking his sweet time getting their drinks. Dean hoped he hadn't gotten into trouble.

The kid was coming back over carrying four beers, the eyes of the three club girls who'd tried to chat Eliot up earlier following him back.

At least they weren't trying to feel up Eliot anymore. The man didn't show it but he hated strangers touching him and they'd gotten way farther into his personal space than the man was comfortable with anyone get.

Yeah, the sarcastic part of his mind that never shut up told him. That's exactly why you're glad they've moved onto Hardison.

Eliot stirred when Hardison arrived back, grabbing his beer and taking a long drink before going over to take his turn.

"Do you want me to steal their purses?" Parker asked, pulling Deans attention back to where she was sitting and away from Eliot (and the girls who were trying to be subtle about watching him again and damnit).

Dean considered the offer. After a few months teaching her about engines and slowly turning her into his assistant onboard Leverage he'd gotten pretty used to the little thief and her antics. "Nah, think it'd just annoy Mr. Smiles."

Parker grinned. She did love that nickname for Eliot. Hell, some days Dean even thought she actually understood the joke.

They drank their beers and Eliot narrowly beat him at pool and Hardison called playing the winner and so the three of them, wisely, teamed up against Hardison.

They'd learned very early that Hardison's training included advanced mathematics, improved special reasoning, and the precision needed to target, aim, and fire missile systems. According to him after firing hitting a target the size of a beer bottle with a rocket from a drone in low orbit a couple thousand miles away winning pool was pretty straight forward.

Considering it took them each taking a turn for every turn Hardison had for them to even have a chance to beat him he was probably right.

After Eliot's second turn, when it was obvious the game would be won by someone before his third, Eliot said he was going to take a piss.

Ten minutes later Dean broke off his argument with Hardison about… frankly he didn't even remember what ten seconds after doing so. He'd looked up, trying to see if Eliot was heading back yet, to see the man had been waylaid by the girls from earlier.

They'd surrounded him, one even closing in from behind with her hand on his shoulder, fingers skimming up the inside of his neck.

He felt something inside of him go cold and flare hot.

A second girl moved closer and Eliot leaned in to kiss her.

He clenched his teeth before his common sense told his libido to shut up and pay attention. Three club girls. Taking an interest in a guy but blown off. Next thing they've surrounded said guy and he's suddenly all too willing to reciprocate.

Damnit. Hardison probably had no idea how little time it took to slip something into a drink. The boy got flustered when any girl looked at him too long.

"Guys. We need to get Eliot out of here. Now." He stated, the shift in his tone of voice getting Parker and Hardison's attention. "We got a couple Spice Girls."

"Seriously? Seriously?" Eliot asked, breaking into the story. His head was hurting even worse now. He vaguely remembered the girls. He didn't remember letting them touch him. And maybe it was his pounding head making him think Dean was talking about whatever the hell he was talking about.

"Spice girls." Dean stated, flatly. "A couple decades ago they came out with this new drug. Pheremone based, it cured something, don't really remember what. It only took a couple months of testing for it to get trashed cause it did what pheromones do. Messed with the heads of the people on it and around it. A couple years later a drug lord came out with a new version of it called Spice and Ice. More potent. Can be used as a roofie or recreationally, endorphins, makes you really easy and feel good, heightens sex drive to. Problem is it's highly addictive and once there's a build up of it in your system it causes problems. Don't know why but it effects guys differently than girls. Build it up in guys and you've got a junkie too strung out to do anything but lounge around and have sex with whoever's willing to do most of the work. Build it up in girls and you end up with a sociopath hell bent on adding to her harem and thinking just clearly enough to do it and use it. Spice Girl's what us Hunter's call the girls who've been on Spice long enough to be actively building a harem of guys they keep drugged up. Normally by then the brain damage is permanent."

Eliot swallowed the taste of bile at the back of his throat. A sudden memory. He wondered if it was based on the same…

He shook it off. "So, basically I was their latest target?"

Dean was silent a moment, relief and something else behind the grim smile. "Good news was I was watching out. Bad news was you never react to anything the normal way."

Hardison seemed to understand what Dean had said. Parker was used to going along with things she didn't understand when said in Dean's _that will make the engine explode _voice. They rushed through the crowd and it was simple enough to get Eliot away from the especially after Parker tasered their leader.

Spice Girls or not Dean loved a bar you could taser someone in and have no one raise an eyebrow.

After that they rushed Eliot outside, Hardison running ahead to get the shuttle ready. They were still a few blocks away and Eliot was not steady on his feet.

Parker and Dean supported Eliot in between them, the drugs at least making him docile enough that he didn't argue with being more or less carried down the street.

They were still a block away from the shuttle when Eliot started to shake, his breathing growing shallow and head lolling to the side.

It was then Dean registered that if Eliot couldn't absorb and process the drug the way it was designed to be this could go very badly and the one who knew best how to deal with it was strung half out of his mind and on his way to being gone entirely.

They made it back to _The Impala _in one piece at least, laying Eliot on the bottom bunk. Sammy would probably bitch about shoes in his bed later. That brought a bitter grin to his face. Some days he missed the time when Sammy bitching about something was his biggest concern.

Hardison reeved the engines but didn't lift off. Dean was always insistent that no one but him and Sam was allowed to drive his baby. He looked up to the opening to the cockpit. The sooner they got back to _Leverage_ the sooner Eliot got the medical attention he needed.

Eliot curled sideways, knees pulling up to his chest, hands gripping his own shoulders like he was trying to hold himself in or together. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated almost wider.

"Parker." Dean said quietly. "Tell Hardison if he scratches my baby I'll pour his orange soda all over _Leverage's _navigating system console."

Parker nodded solemnly and went through the door to the cockpit, closing it behind her.

Gritting his teeth against the feeling of _The Impala _lifting off without him behind the controller Dean sat down by Eliot, reaching out to brush sweaty strands of hair away from his face. "Ge-men, don't know how you manage this all." He muttered.

He was talking about the hair. Yeah.

Eliot let out a little sigh at the contact the shaking easing a little and Dean started using his fingers to comb out the tangles mess. It seemed to help relax Eliot during his _normal_ episodes.

…When had he gotten used to sitting with Eliot when his powers slipped his control and overwhelmed him for a little while?

The tangles straightened out Dean trailed his fingers down along the side of Eliot's face. Eliot didn't normally like being touched, even by Dean, and Dean wasn't really into acting like a chick.

But it helped relax Eliot at times like this and he'd never admit it but it was kind of a nice break from the slap-punch-mock-almost but never quite fuck thing they had going on.

Dean had knew, not because he was told but because after a while the clues and hints became glaring and Dean knew how the alliance worked well enough it barely qualified as a guess, that Eliot's experiences with sex weren't what his flirting and wicked smile would imply. They shared space a lot, they used physical gestures instead of words to share comfort.

But they'd kissed twice, three times it that incident with the mudders milk counted and they'd been doing This for more than a month.

And as much as Dean was all for going full speed ahead Eliot was…

He said it was the phycic thing. That physical contact turned the volume in his head up to a point that was way past annoying.

And that was probably part of it but…

It didn't matter though. Dean knew whatever they had going was better than Dean deserved even if his libido and right hand hated him for it. He could give Eliot all the time and space he wanted. There was plenty of it to spare up in the Black.

Dean ran his fingers down the side of Eliot's face and neck, relaxing as Eliot relaxed and turned into the touch. It was odd, sometimes, how Eliot in his normal state hated touching but he seemed to want it whenever he wasn't lucid.

Dean withdrew his hand, suddenly somewhat self conscious about the fact that this was less a "Eliot's distracted but could stop it if he wanted" scenario and more of a case where he was drugged which was the definition of questionable consent.

Eliot made a noise that, coming from a less deadly man, might have been qualified as a whine.

Dean sighed and took his hand, thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist. "Ge-men, if you even remember this you asked for it. Just saying."

Then Eliot's hand tightened around his and Dean wasn't entirely sure what happened next because suddenly he was on his back with Eliot straddling him and his mind decided all it could really manage processing was there was a reason this room and the cockpit was soundproofed but fuck…

"Hey, Eliot…" Dean said stopping when Eliot was suddenly right there kissing his neck. "Listen. Man. It's not that I don't like the thought but…" Damn did that man have a SOLID grasp of the things he could and frankly should do more often with his mouth. "Eliot, ge-men, you're drugged. You're having a weird reaction. Don't think this is what you really want."

Then Eliot was kissing him on the mouth and fumbling with his clothes and Dean wasn't sure if he should just help Eliot or try to stop this or…

Well Eliot was drugged and could kill with his bare hands. Mix those together and fighting Eliot was probably not the wisest idea.

He realized he needed to decide what to do and do it very quickly when Eliot got frustrated and pulled at his shirt, popping the buttons and ripping it open a hand reaching for the fly of his pan-

Eliot shook his head, trying to push out the words, pushing himself back and up against the wall behind him, pulling his legs up against his chest, neither the wall at his back or his position, habitual after a lifetime of protecting himself from blows or bracing for a shock, helping to calm the _panicsickscared _feeling in his gut.

It had been nearly ten years. He'd…

"ge- Eliot?" Dean asked. The reaction to his story obviously worrying him. "Are…"

Now Eliot understood the wince, his own lack of clothing, why he'd been restrained.

_Wo Babade hao biao _

"Did I rape you?" He asked, voice sounding hollow in his own ears.

Silence.

Dean was suddenly there, a hand on his knee. Eliot wanted to growl, tell Dean not to touch him, but he'd lost the right to tell anyone that a long time ago. "No," Dean said. "Don't even…"

Eliot looked up and Dean placed his finger tips on Eliot's cheek. Something in his head slipping and in his mind he could see himself as Dean saw him. Rage and grief twisting his lips into a scowl, eyes reflecting that rage and horror and self loathing normally kept buried deep enough not to suffocate him.

"Hardison came out of the cockpit." Dean said. Eliot felt the truth in the words. Dean wasn't lieing to protect him. "He saw what was going on, guessed I wasn't fighting back because I was worried you were strung out enough you might hurt me, and used your safeword. Your clothes are gone because when we rolled you off me you started puking and we were too busy trying to make sure you didn't drown in your own vomit to also worry about not getting it all over you."

That was a pleasant picture.

"You do owe me a new shirt but that's about it," Dean said retreating out of Eliot's personal space. "Jerk." The last bit was added with the tone they were more used to talking in. Clearly ready to move past the sharing caring hugs and bunnies portion of the evening.

"Asshole," Eliot countered, slowly uncurling.

Dean stretched and threw a final insult. "Witch." He turned toward the door before pausing to add, "You know. I meant it. I don't mind the idea. I'd just rather you be in your head when we decide to do whatever it was you were planning on doing."

Eliot let out a breath. "I… I'm not against the idea either." He said, bracing himself for something he wasn't even sure what.

Dean turned back to look at him, hands up and open in front of him in the gesture habitual for the non-ex agents on the ship by now when discussing an uncomfortable subject or speaking sharply. His tone was almost flippant but there was something. "Look. Whatever happened. I understand. I can cool my heels as long as it takes."

Eliot shook his head. "No, you don't." He met Dean's eyes, willing… himself… not to back away from this. "You think you know what they did to me? What I did?"

Understanding dawned into horror on Dean's face. "This isn't…" He trailed off. "That…"

Eliot looked away, feeling old rage boil up and over. He needed to get out of here. Throw himself back into his training. Burn it out before.

Hands. Barely there. Gentle. But fingers callused by weapons and work. A sensation of fear but something Eliot wouldn't name right now. His head was turned and lips, more hesitant than the fingers, met his.

He could all but feel Dean telling him this was okay, this was what Dean wanted, that it was okay to let this happen.

And he kissed back.

Happiness and pleasure rolled back across his senses from Dean and that spurred him on,


	5. Children Lost and Found

**Notes: **An in-universe tag to The Bankshot Job

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><p><strong>Children Lost and Found<strong>

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><p>Really, they should all just know and assume by now that there were certain laws of the verse.<p>

The alliance only paid attention when it was really inconvenient, the things Dean and Sam hunted would pop out of the woodwork as soon as the decision was made that the brothers should hold down the fort on Leverage while they ran a con, and while fortune may favor the bold it liked to kick them in the ass first.

"_What was that?"_ Eliot's voice sounded over the com. Hardison made a mental note to adjust the com's sensors again because the roar of the mule Eliot was driving must have been mucking with things because he did *not* hear Nate say what he thought he said before that.

"_The bank's being robbed." _Nate repeated at a whisper. "_Hardison, Parker, get out of here."_

Yeah, two off worlders standing across the street from a bank robbery… they turned to try to walk casually down the road to the nearest side alley.

"Why doesn't it ever go smooth?" He asked the air, trying to suppress his panic. Nate and Sophie were in a bank that was being robbed and Eliot was an hour away clearing up the last of the con and oh yeah.

He and Parker would have to do something to rescue Nate and Sophie only this went way beyond…

"_Hardison, deep breaths."_ Sophie said quietly. "_We're still on coms. You can do this. You've been doing this for months."_

Hardison took in a deep breath and let it out. Of course Sophie knew he was panicing and of course she could guess why.

He was a HTO. He might be coming up on six months free but he hacked and did the tech work. He didn't do all of… this. This? Out here with the run down towns and the heat and the dust and the tech that makes Earth That Was look like a core world science lab?

So not his world.

And yeah they were still on coms with Sophie and Nate but what happened if they went off com?

What would happen to them if Sophie and Nate got killed?

He wasn't ready to jump back into the mess that was life with jobs and bills and taxes and all the shit Nate was teaching him how to do and he was figuring out for himself and Parker would probably end up stabbing someone and getting sent to a psyche ward and Eliot…

Okay, Eliot would be fine until he died anyway.

Suddenly there were horses riding down the main road, the town's sheriff riding in and

AH hell, they were all gonna die.

**oOo**

The good news was the adrenalin.

She was scared. That got her adrenalin going which helped her to focus.

The bad news was she wasn't about to jump off a building or break into one or anything.

"I need to what?" She asked, horror and refusal to understand coloring her voice.

"_Steal a shuttle then join Hardison. Pretend to be Feds. Head off the local police. Buy us time and make sure no one gets shot." _Sophie was using her soft tone which Parker was pretty sure was supposed to be soothing but she didn't feel at all soothed.

She could steal a shuttle. She could steal a shuttle in her sleep but…

"_You'll do fine." _Sophie reassured again. "Ju-"

"_Parker."_ Nate interrupted_. "Have you ever robbed a bank that was being robbed?"_

She thought. Considered.

Then smiled.

She wasn't grifting. She was just robbing a bank. One that was being robbed. Which was so cool.

She stole a shuttle and headed to meet up with Hardison and it was somewhere between the meet up and breaking down the time to rob the bank that she wondered what would happen if something happened.

Sophie hadn't managed to calm her down before Nate cut in but something about Sophie was calming when the woman was actually there and even over the comms. Sometimes Sophie made Parker believe that someday she might be able to do things like not stab the mark or smile and laugh at the right times to get the mark to give her money.

And Nate knew how to redirect her and put things in her perspective. Sophie made people make sense but Nate made everything else make sense and he made it so she could do what she loved to do but never made her feel like her rigging was really a leash and there were no whispering silences on Leverage.

Leverage was actually Home. Like she hadn't had since.

What would happen if they lost this?

**oOo**

Eliot waited. He stayed silent, still, whole attention split between watching the suitcase at the end of the road and listening over the coms for some sign of something to tell him things weren't as bad as they seemed.

That Nate and Sophie weren't hostage and wounded and maybe dying for all he knew.

But they were and damnit why didn't anything ever go smooth?

Eliot listened to the silence ringing after the feedback of a com being destroyed, for the first time in years feeling almost like praying, wishing he'd taken the chance to tell Nate and Sophie exactly why they weren't allowed to get themselves killed in some bank on this back water hell-hole.

It had started out as something he said to soothe a skittish Parker months ago but Parker and Hardison were all the clan he had left. He'd look after them because they needed looking after and it was Eliot's job.

But he couldn't look after them for much longer. Sophie and Nate had to take care of them and teach them how to take care of themselves and Eliot was trusting Nate and Sophie to be alive long enough to do it.

Damit.

The judge demanded his money back just as the dealers arrived for the drop and Eliot ran down the road and this whole mess was spiraling out too fast and he just hoped they could pull together enough to see it through.

**oOo**

The job was wrapped and Eliot had stitched up Nate and everyone was safe back aboard Leverage.

It was the night after a job and Eliot had cooked a celebratory dinner made out of actual food and Nate had made it up to eat with them and Sam was already putting in the coordinates for their next job.

Everything was winding down and Sophie could see Parker, Hardison, and Eliot finishing up the activities they'd gotten up to in the lounge area. They'd be heading off to bed soon but the nightly reading didn't happen the night after a job.

But… They seemed on edge and it occurred to Sophie that it was odd for them to be lingering like this. Eliot would normally have disappeared into the engine room for some quality time with Dean (a thing that amused her nearly as much as it gave a odd warm feeling in her stomach) Hardison would hang out with Sam on the bridge and Parker would do whatever it was Parker did when she disappeared.

Sophie sipped her tea and watched as they filed out. Something was amiss. They were all much more on edge tonight than they usually were after a job, no matter how far south it had gone.

A realization struck her and she smiled, finishing her tea, and casually following them down to the dorms. She slipped into her room to retrieve the present she'd been saving for a special time before slipping back across the hall to where they were all settling in for the night.

Three sets of eyes found her as she ambled in, book under her arm, settling down on a chair. "You all bedded down?" If she added a slight lull to her voice they probably wouldn't notice.

Parker sat up on her bunk and raised her hand. "Can I get some water?"

Sophie smiled and went over to the sink in the corner, retrieving a glass of water and handing it to the girl. She had never gone through these motions herself but she knew them. Knew the lull of the dim light, little gestures. A smile to Hardison as he watched her. A brush of her fingers against Eliot's shoulder as she passed trying to send the calm of her presence through the Reader.

They'd never admit it but the three of them were anxious because they'd almost lost Nate and Sophie today.

She was a companion. This wasn't a role she'd been called to fill before but… somehow when she handed these three their futures in a small briefcase she'd known this was what she'd signed up for. She could play this role when they needed reassurances. She'd played roles far worse for those she cared far less about.

Parker smiled at Sophie over the top of her glass, retreating into the nest of blankets and pulling a much loved if ragged stuffed animal to sit on her lap.

Sophie sat back down on her chair, glancing between Hardison laying on his side watching and Eliot flat on his back with his eyes closed and some of the lines eased out of his face making him look younger than he was for once…

She smiled and picked up the book in her hand. "A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away…"


	6. Perspective

**Notes: **This actually takes place around the middle of the time covered by The Things They Carried but doesn't follow the structures of those stories.

Although it won't become important until later this locates the Supernatural time frame as roughly a few months post season two finale when the boys first board the ship.

Lastly for anyone who missed it I've started to post The Two Son's Job which is the next part of this verse.

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><p><strong>Perspective<strong>

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><p><em>Blue light. Blue Fire. He could see her face. Screaming his name. She was screaming for him. <em>_**music.**__ Always screaming for him. __**"Scary monsters"**__ Jess. He could hear her breathing. __**Glittering Bird her fingers could taste the memories.**__ Red Chemicals dropped onto his face. Blood. __**A thousand voices inside of his head. All saying nothing.**__ A diamond on his finger. The smell of gasoline. Everything was gonna be okay. __**He opened his eyes.**__Figures in white coats were distorted by the liquid and glass around him. He could feel her so close. If he could just break the glass._

_**Fire.**_

Sam sat up sharply, his hands automatically going to the controls for the ship, checking for danger before he was even fully awake. The pounding in his skull causing it to take an extra few moments for his vision to clear and the world beyond the controls to soak in.

"Impressive." A voice, Sophie's voice, said behind him. "If I didn't know better I'd think you could fly this in your sleep."

The door opening or closing must have woken him up. His nightmares normally didn't end so soon unless his mind perceived a potential threat. He turned, blinking owlishly at her as she offered him a plate of food. "I heated up the dinner Eliot left for us before he went planet side. Thought you might be hungry."

Mutely he took the plate from her. Now he remembered. Leverage was on her maiden voyage and stopping for supplies. The three former agents and Dean had headed planetside while he, Sophie, and Nate stayed on board.

"Thanks." He muttered belatedly, remembering his manners over the screaming in his head.

"Don't mention it." She responded, the honey smooth curl of her voice blessedly not adding to the pain. He wondered if companions were trained to speak like that or...

Well she was probably the only one he'd ever get near so it didn't really matter all that much.

She left and he settled back into his chair, poking idly at the food, the pain in his head making him feel nauseous.

Headaches, badly cushioned chairs, protien in every color of the rainbow, staring out at the black waiting for his brother to come home...

The more months that passed the more those years out of this life started to feel as brief and unsubstantial and surreal as his dreams. Nightmares.

Six years ago he'd taken a scholarship from Blue Sun and went to a core world university. He trained as a pilot and studied aerodynamics and engineering and before long was pushed and pulled into harder and more challenging curriculum. Every course of study from mathmatics and physics to biology and sociology were opened and offered to him with his meager scholarship going from barely enough to cover tuition to a flat out grant generous enough for him to rent a nice apartment with his girlfriend from the program.

He was weeks away from graduating with honors, had a verse wide range of choices for his graduate studies open, and endless high paying job opportunities avalible that would pay well enough that should he and Jessica ever break up questions about companions would have been relevant. Just like questions about his own luxury shuttles and actual houses and vacation destinations would have suddenly mattered to him.

And the only price so far had been studying hard and ignoring the way every few months one of the kids in his scholarship program would drop out and disappear. It was easy enough to do. He was only ever close to one of the ones to do so and Brady came from a family on a rim world. It was possible he just had no way of contacting anyone easily and wanted a clean break.

But then the headaches had started and Jessica had gotten paranoid and then Dean had shown up, demanding his help with a job. He'd gotten home and...

He'd arrived in time to witness alliance troops led by men with blue gloves and black eyes dragging Jessica from their home, setting the place on fire.

It didn't feel like nearly two years since he'd watched his future go up in smoke while the woman he loved was dragged off to some hell hole.

It felt longer, or shorter, some impossible stretch of time spent running and hiding and fighting only to wind up sharing a ship with three people who'd escaped the alliance. A different program than the one that had taken Jess but...

The door behind him opened again and he turned, surprised to see Sophie coming in carrying two steaming mugs. She handed him one with a smile. "It'll help your headache."

"Uh, thanks." He gave her a greatful smile and she returned it with a smile of her own and sat down on the other chair, looking out toward the black. She didn't seem intent to say anything and he wasn't really in a condition to start a conversation so he turned back to look outwards and sipped the tea she'd given him. The warmth slid down his throat and settled in his chest, radiating outwards and the pounding slowly began to ease.

It wasn't quite the same as with his brother, the sharing of space and silence with years of familiarity and the inate sense that he was safe while Dean was next to him.

But once the tea was gone and his body settled enough he could finish the food he settled back into the chair and into the silence and somehow the black out there...

He'd spent his childhood locked into this life. He'd thought he'd escaped only to find his new life was just a trap waiting to be sprung and fallen back into his old life.

And yeah, maybe along with hope that someday he might find and rescue Jessica the three agents were giving him some perspective on exactly how trapped you could be.

But when he looked out to the black, sharing the space with a member of the crew, a faint hint of tea in the air telling him that despite his suspicions Sophie had an agenda there was a possibility he and Dean were no longer as alone out here as they'd once been and he knew in his bones no matter what all had led him here and the messes he had no idea how to deal with they were still flying.

And so he checked the clock and counted down the hours in his head until the others returned and they headed out again and the last of his headache dissipated under the knowledge that he, that they, were still flying.


End file.
